To Being an Us For Once
by ephemereal
Summary: The gang celebrates Thanksgiving. The Bohemian way. Please read the AN even if you don't read the fic.


**A/N: Rent was my first fandom on ff.n, so I feel hugely honored to be the one starting the movie category. I hope some of you still remember me from when I was updating there every day. For right now I've moved most of my old fics over from Musicals/Plays, and I hope you will do the same. I've got a couple of new things in the works, and you should be seeing those very soon.**

**Daydreamer731**

* * *

To Being an Us For Once

It was a gray, awful day outside, pouring rain and about two degrees below freezing. One of those days when everyone wanted to stay inside and sleep and the whole world crawled to a standstill and there was nothing but depression and boredom.

Thanksgiving. Oh, what a wonderful day.

Mark rushed into the loft, arms laden with groceries from a last minute shopping trip.

The loft was dark and cold, since the one light bulb in the living room had blown out, and the heater had refused to turn on that morning despite everyone's best efforts to coax it back to life.

"Hey guys!" Mark called to the silent loft, as he set the groceries down on the damp kitchen floor. Then, "Anyone home?"

The only reply he got was the sound of laughter from Roger's room.

Mark sighed and walked over to the answering machine in the corner, the only source of light in the room.

"All right, all right, calm down," Mark muttered to the message light, which was blinking impatiently at him.

Then Mark wondered when he'd begun talking to inanimate objects. Sometime over the past two years. Since things had gotten crazy.

Mark sighed again and pushed the button, cringing when the machine told him he had three messages waiting for him. He could already predict what the first two would be.

"Mark, honey, this is Mom. Look, honey, I understand if you can't make it up here for every single holiday, but we'd like to hear the sound of your voice every once in a while. At least give us a call, honey."

Mark jabbed the 'skip' button.

"Roger? It's your mother. You know, that woman who raised you? That woman you should be grateful to? Especially today? Roger? Roger, pick up the goddamn phone! Pickup-"

Mark advanced the tape once again.

"Marky? This is Maureen. Umm. . .I can't find vegetarian stuffing anywhere. . .or vegetarian turkey. Do you know where I could get that? Give me a call on my cell! Thanks!"

Mark shook his head and began unpacking the groceries.

Roger appeared a few minutes later, hair badly tousled, shirt buttoned crooked.

"Where's Mimi?" Mark asked idly.

"Getting dressed. What time is everyone supposed to be here?"

Mark shook his head and shrugged.

"Sometime. Maureen said she was coming around five, but Collins and Joanne couldn't get off work until after six."

"Oh, that's just great," Roger muttered, "Mark, where are we getting food?"

"Maureen and Joanne are bringing dinner. . .supposedly. But uh—judging from the message Maureen left earlier—well, that doesn't seem too promising right now."

Roger shook his head and began pulling things out of bags and shoving them into closets.

"Roger, I'm never gonna be able to find anything if you keep putting things away like that." Mark complained.

Roger continued his task.

"I'm just trying to help."

"Hey guys," Mimi greeted, walking up behind Roger and wrapping her arms around his waist, "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Well, well, if it isn't sleeping beauty," Mark grumbled.

Just then, they heard the sound of a key in the rusty old lock, and Maureen bounded in.

"Hi!" she squealed, grinning from ear to ear.

"Uh—Maureen? What is that?" Mark asked, pointing to the long, flat box she was holding.

"Oh. This." She exclaimed, her face falling, "It's—it's a pizza."

"A pizza?" Mimi echoed incredulously.

"Yeah. Since I couldn't find vegetarian turkey. And I didn't want Collins to feel left out so. . ."

"I see." Roger said, giving her an expression of mock understanding.

Maureen gave him her most winning smile, and set the box down on the kitchen table.

"Right then," Mark sighed, at tempting to break the awkward silence that had fallen.

"Why is it so cold in here?" Maureen asked finally.

"The heater died this morning," Mimi explained, "We just haven't had a funeral for it yet."

"Or gotten a replacement," Roger added.

"Oh that won't do," Maureen said critically, "It's too dark and gloomy in here for us to have Thanksgiving dinner."

"Well what do you propose we do about it?" Mark asked irritably.

"Decorate?" Maureen answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"With what?"

"I don't know. You have any candles?"

"Well. . .yeah . . ." said Roger slowly.

"Excellent!" squealed Maureen, rubbing her hands together in anticipation, "Let me have them."

"O. . .kay. . ." agreed Roger hesitantly.

Allowing Maureen access to fire wasn't something to be taken lightly.

But before long, she'd artfully arranged them around the living room so that the soft glow pervaded the entire room. Then she proceeded to steal one of the sheets off Mark's bed and drape it over the old living room table.

"It looks nice," encouraged Mimi, surveying the room.

"Yeah. . .it does. . ." sighed Roger, staring at Mimi.

"Sure. . ." Mark muttered sarcastically.

Roger went over to Mimi and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her passionately.

"Great. . ." grumped Mark, "Well, we won't be needing any food for them tonight."

"Hey now!" Roger objected.

"Oh, so they can hear me. . ." Mark said curiously, "I'll have to remember that for future reference. Could be very useful."

The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts.

Collins and Joanne walked in together, carrying a large pumpkin pie and a bunch of red chrysanthemums.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Collins exclaimed, hugging everyone warmly. "Why so down, Mark?"

"Because. . .just. . .oh, I don't know. Thanksgiving shouldn't be like this. Everything's all. . .dying. And I keep thinking that. . .if Angel were here, she'd find a way to make it all bright and new and alive again."

Collins nodded gravely.

"I know what you mean. . .I was feeling the same way this morning. But then I thought. . .the thing about Angel was that she never felt sorry for herself. Through everything. She just kept. . .looking forward. . .and believing that it would be better."

"Just think. . .think where we'd all be if it hadn't been for everything that went wrong the night we all met." Mimi said softly.

"Can we eat now?" asked Maureen innocently, shattering the nostalgic atmosphere.

But Collins just laughed.

"Sure."

They all brought blankets in from the bedrooms to keep warm, sat on the floor around the table, and carved up the pizza that Maureen had brought.

"Happy Thanksgiving all," said Mark, "Shall we eat?"

"Wait!" called Maureen, "One more thing!"

She jumped up, grabbed Joanne's chrysanthemums from the counter and put them in the center of the table.

"There. Now it's complete. We've got everything we need. A candlelit dinner, in a gourmet restaurant, with flowers in the center of the table, and a great family to share it with."

Mark grinned at her, for the first time all day.

"I feel like I should be filming this."

But Collins shook his head.

"No. This is the kind of moment that could never be captured on film. I'd rather keep it in my memory."

Maureen gave him a teary smile, and gave Joanne into a tight hug.

Roger pulled Mimi into his lap and began kissing the back of her neck.

Mark looked across the table at Collins, then held up his plastic cup full of water.

"A toast. To the moment. And to better times to come."

THE END


End file.
